


Feels Good to be Lonely

by TVTime



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alliteration, Anal Fingering, Ass Play, Bad Puns, Banshee Lydia Martin, Bisexual Male Character, Bottom Jackson, Caught, Cold, Comedy, Cuddling & Snuggling, Cumshot, Dildos, Euphemisms, Extreme narcissism, F/M, Fantasizing, Fantasy, Fire, Gen, Gerard Has Weird Taste in Porn, Gerard's POV, Hellhound Jordan Parrish, Hellhounds, Horny Isaac, Horny Stiles Stilinski, Hot, Humor, If Roscoe's Rockin' Don't Come a Knockin', Isaac Needs Relief, Isaac's POV, Jackson Fucks Himself, Jackson-centric, Jeep Jerkin', Jockstraps, Let's Not Even Talk about Gerard's Lube, Lydia-centric, M/M, Massage, Masturbation, Masturbation in Shower, Merry Month of Masturbation Challenge, Merry Month of Masturbation Challenge 2017, Merry Month of Masturbation Challenge 2018, Mirror Sex, Mirrors, Morning Wood, Multi, Nipple Play, Other, Platonic Cuddling, Precum, Scott Thinks He's Funny, Scott's Gonna Be Late to Work, Scott-Centric, Self-Acceptance, Sensation Play, Sensuality, Sex Toys, Sexual Fantasy, Sexual Humor, Sharing a Bed, Smut, Stiles Is Asleep, Stiles Stilinski's Jeep's Name is Roscoe, Stiles-centric, Temperature Play, Threesome - F/M/M, Top Jackson, Voyeurism, Water, assplay, chin-ups, jerking off, lydia remembers, masturbation sleeves, mmom, self love, smut and humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-12
Updated: 2018-05-31
Packaged: 2018-10-31 02:45:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10890045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TVTime/pseuds/TVTime
Summary: May is National Masturbation Month, so to celebrate I decided to start a new little series featuring the Teen Wolf gang pleasuring themselves (but not each other. Solo fun only is the theme for this story).Part 1 - Jordan ParrishPart 2 - JacksonPart 3 - StilesPart 4 - LydiaPart 5 - ScottPart 6 - GerardPart 7 - IsaacIsaac groaned and rolled his index finger back and forth over his cockslit. He tapped it, watching the string of precum stretch and break and reform. Stiles would be staringrightat it if he opened his eyes. He head rested atop Isaac’s chest. His hair tickled Isaac’s pecs. His moist, parted lips vibrated against the base of Isaac’s sternum with every breath he took.Without thinking, Isaac slid his hand up along Stiles’ back, stroking his spine.Stiles murmured and nuzzled his face against Isaac’s skin.Isaac let out a tight breath and curled his fingers around his cock. It felt so fucking good.





	1. Parrish

**Author's Note:**

> All chapters are named for the character they center around. The corresponding tags after that character's name (EX: _Jackson-Centric_ ) and before the next character's name (Ex: _Stiles-Centric_ ) describe what activities/themes will occur in that chapter (Ex: Jackson's chapter features: _Top Jackson, Bottom Jackson, Jackson Fucks Himself, Extreme narcissism, Humor, Sexual Humor, Sex Toys, Mirror Sex, Mirrors, Dildos, masturbation sleeves,_ and _smut and humor._ The tags before and after that section don't apply to that chapter and instead relate to the Parrish and Stiles chapters respectively). 
> 
> Every chapter is standalone and occupies a separate story universe, so feel free to skip the chapters you're not interested in, go straight to your favorites, or otherwise read in any order.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hellhound Jordan Parrish plays with fire, and himself, in this temperature-focused session.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> May is National Masturbation Month so to celebrate I decided to start a new little series featuring the Teen Wolf gang pleasuring themselves (but not each other. Solo fun only is the theme for this story). The title of the series is loosely inspired by Lady Gaga’s song, “Dancin’ in Circles” which, IMO, is the best song about masturbation since the classic “I Touch Myself” by the Divinyls. There’s a specific Lydia fantasizing about Stiles installment that I want to do that’s more directly inspired by the song. But first up I thought it would be fun to imagine how a hellhound pleasures himself.

Jordan considered himself an honest person. If he was going to let someone into his life, he wanted them to see him for who he really was. That had been easy when his biggest secrets were that he didn’t like Beyonce songs and found watching football games painfully boring – and sure, those were deal breakers for some people, but he could accept that. It was better to be upfront at the beginning of a relationship so that six months into it his significant other wouldn’t try to drag him to the Superbowl to watch Queen Bey’s halftime show. 

But on what date were you supposed to tell someone that you were a hellhound? Was that an interesting getting-to-know-you tidbit to share over coffee, or more of a ‘Well now that we’re engaged I guess I should mention...” kind of thing?

Jordan wasn’t sure. Regardless, being a flaming demonic hell beast was really starting to interfere with his sex life. 

He had gone out on a few dates with Duputy Clark – Valerie – from work, but she had enough on her plate with her sister, and the last thing Jordan wanted to do was drag her any further into the supernatural freak show he found himself in. He had also gone out for drinks a few times with his hot neighbor down the hall who liked to walk his dog shirtless, but Mr. Scruffles seemed to sense Jordan’s second nature and growled at him relentlessly, and Jordan knew better than to try to come between a man and his dog. Most recently he had a few ‘training dates’ with Lydia Martin and the chemistry between them was undeniable, but even if she was eighteen and about to graduate high school, Jordan knew the age difference made a relationship inappropriate.

Jordan sighed as he ran his fingers over his dirt and ash-covered chest. He had woken up at the Nemeton again, skin burning as the fire consumed him from the inside out. It hadn’t been extinguished. It was smoldering there, just beneath his fingertips. He studied his reflection in the bathroom mirror, unafraid of the soot-covered, orange-eyed creature staring back at him. He was the same person he had always been, just a little extra. Besides, the changes weren’t all bad.

He turned on the tap and let the cool water cover his hands, hissing and moaning at the rush of sensation caused by the temperature change on his skin. He leaned against the wall and trailed wet fingers down his chest, pretending it was someone else touching him. His skin sizzled red and cooled a bronze tan as he traced the planes of his pectoral muscles, saving his ash-covered nipples for last. He re-wet his fingers and smiled at himself in the mirror, glowing orange eyes glinting as he tweaked the dirty brown nubs and transformed them to hard, flaming buds.

“Oh god, _yes._ ” Jordan moaned and bit his lip, head thrown back as he worked his chest until the fire went out and his blazing supernatural flesh felt like normal human skin. 

His eyes tracked lower, over his lean, soot-lined stomach and down to the large tent straining his black boxer briefs. _Fuck._ He was going to take good care of himself tonight, but first he needed to remove the last of his clothes. He could do that the normal way or...

Jordan smirked and kicked his bathmat away from the shower tub. He couldn’t risk creating a fire hazard just for the sake of playing with himself. He might be immune to the flames, but he would never risk the safety of anyone around him. He filled the glass he kept by the sink with cool water and once he was satisfied that he could keep the situation contained he continued his game.

He slid dripping wet fingers down the midline of his torso, creating black rivulets of hot, sooty water that flowed around his abs and made him gasp and whimper with pleasure as his core steamed and throbbed. He splashed more water on his stomach and clutched the corner of the shower wall as his head swam. He could have just gotten in the shower and wet himself completely, creating a sharp, mind-blowing rush, but he wanted to drag this out. 

His patience was rewarded as the water seeped into the soft cotton waistband of his underwear and made the delicate skin trapped underneath hum and twitch. 

“Aaahh!” 

His fingers scrabbled against the slick, blue shower tile as a thick stream of cold water rolled down his pelvis, saturating his flame-retardant pubic bush and haloing his blazing hot, quivering cock and balls in tingly wet coolness. 

It was time to free his steaming manhood and give it the attention it deserved. 

Jordan held out his hand and focused. He needed to keep the fire localized. His eyes burned with heat and the skin on the rest of his body sizzled, drying all the moisture until at last his palm and fingers erupted in a flickering yellow and orange blaze. It took concentration to keep the flame from spreading up his arm or from going out, and concentration was a limited resource right now, so he wasted no time in wrapping his burning fingers around his erection through his underwear.

“Yes, yes, fuck yes, _FUCK!_ ”

Jordan’s eyes watered as the black cotton finally succumbed to the heat and erupted in flames. The burning fabric clung to his shaft, wrapped fiery tendrils around his glans, and heated his balls into glowing embers. Jesus christ it was good!

“Oh yeah, there, there!”

The flames licked along his taint and the crease of his thighs before winding and crawling into his crack then out over the hard globes of his ass. The heat against his hole wasn’t enough and as his underwear burned away, Jordan tore a long flaming scrap away from his hip and used it to floss his crack, concentrating the fiery goodness over his tight, burning opening. He wondered what it would feel like to get fucked by another hellhound. _Were_ there other hellhounds? Or was he destined to be alone forever? It felt too good to even care with the fire tickling his asshole.

He wanted to close his eyes and catch his breath, but his responsible side kicked in and he snatched up the glass of water, splashing it over the smoking pieces of fabric and pouring the rest out on the floor for good measure. He did one last visual sweep of the room to ensure that he hadn’t missed anything, then climbed into the shower and pulled the curtain shut.

He didn’t turn on the water. Instead he took his time caressing his searing-hot body. He crossed his arms and massaged his biceps and triceps, working the bundles of hard muscle with steady, probing digits. His hands slid over his forearms, shaved smooth to showcase his musculature. He threw his arm back over his head and flexed as he squeezed his armpit and teased the inflammable clump of hair with a heat that would have ignited human tissue. He twisted and stretched, making the muscles of his sculpted torso strain and bulge as he ran fingers over his collarbone, pecs, and abs then back up over his obliques, lats, and delts, fantasizing that he had a lover enjoying his body. 

Jordan squared his hips as he ran hot fingertips over his chiseled v-line, then away from his pelvis and onto his inner thighs. He’d get back to his needy crotch in good time, but for now he lavished attention on the thick muscles, soft flesh, and tiny hairs covering his upper leg. Every caress made the blood roil deep in his veins and lit his nerve endings with tingling fire. He spent extra time warming his knees until every move of his leg was an explosion of heat. He stroked and prodded his sinewy calves until the muscles felt like they were encased in hot butter. He bounced on the balls of his feet and wiggled his warm toes against the cool tub. At last it was time to focus his attention where it was needed the most.

He squeezed and rubbed his balls, tugging on the loose folds of skin and rolling his throbbing hot orbs around with careless, rough fingers, sending more jolts of conflicting sensation up and down his spine and deep into his gut. He swore he could feel the cum warming and bubbling in his sack, preparing to scald the inside of his dick with fiery pleasure when it blasted out of him.

At last he wrapped his fingers around his straining shaft and milked out a few drops of precum. It coated his cockhead in tingly coolness, sizzling on angry purple skin before boiling off in mind-shattering steam.

 _Steam. Steam. Steam._ Jordan had to have steam before his parched skin cracked open.

His chin slumped against his chest as he turned on the shower with one hand, his other hand never leaving his molten-hot steel rod. It glowed red and as the cool water made contact Jordan screamed.

The water was cold, wet, and soothing, and he was so. _Fucking. HOT!_

He stroked faster as he turned the water up. His whole body tensed and throbbed into oblivion. No chest, no abs, no ass, no thighs – there was nothing but Jordan’s achingly hard cock enduring the dueling sensations of fiery fingers and frigid water. 

Jordan’s hand erupted in flames and he held the heavenly fire against his molten shaft as icy shower water pelted his swollen, glowing cockhead. It was sharp, intense, and hellishly satisfying. 

He leaned back and angled his hips up into the cold stream of water, teeth clattering and sweat beading on his back as he tortured his body with the conflicting sensations. Flames lapped at his balls and his cock grew impossibly harder in his hand as he struggled to send himself over the edge.

Hotter, faster, colder, harder. Hotter. Faster. Colder. HARDER!

Every inch of Jordan’s body was dancing in flames as his vision blurred and he crossed the threshold, spraying creamy white lava through the icy spray and spattering against the blue tile walls. 

Jordan collapsed to his knees and sank backward into the tub as the heat vented from his pores in a sizzling rush, flooding his brain with endorphins. He whimpered and spread his thighs, making sure the cold water worked its magic on his tender, abused crotch. 

He didn’t get up and turn off the water until he was a cool, clean, gloriously relaxed human man. The raging beast had been vanquished for now...but Jordan wasn’t exactly going to complain the next time it burned to life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you thought of this story. I’ve never written a masturbation session quite like this one before, so I’m curious how I did and whether or not you liked it. There's now a sequel to the Parish chapter called ["Hellfire"](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11711622) in which he gets to have sex with another hellhound. http://archiveofourown.org/works/10925166
> 
> I’m considering doing future solo only installments for any/all of the following characters: [Lydia,](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10890045/chapters/24631440) [Corey,](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10925166) Scott, Liam, [Stiles,](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10890045/chapters/24584733) Isaac, Allison, Ethan, Aiden, Kira, [Jackson,](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10890045/chapters/24397620) Mason, Brett. So feel free to campaign for your favorites, and prompts are welcome for everyone but Lydia and Jackson (only because I already have plots in mind for Lydia and Jackson that I want to do if I get around to writing their installments).


	2. Jackson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this extremely narcissistic session, Jackson fucks himself in the most literal way can manage as he stares at himself in the mirror.

Jackson knelt on his bed, naked and studying himself in the long glass mirror mounted to the wall. He gave himself an innocent smile, enjoying his dirty blond hair, sparking green eyes, and the dusting of light freckles across his nose and cheeks. His smile widened, revealing his perfectly straight, porcelain white teeth. He tilted his head and ran his thumb along his strong jawline. He pouted his full, pillowy pink lips and his smile became a smolder as he dragged his hand down his throat and over his collarbone. 

He had been out dancing all night, letting people buy him drinks and flirt with him. The ones he really liked had gotten to dance with him too, had gotten to feel his long, sensuous fingers on their hips. He had teased them with the possibility of taking him home. He had let a girl kiss him, palm his bulge through his pants, whisper in his ear how much she wanted him to fuck her. Then he had smirked and shaken his head as he strutted out of the club. Later that night at a different club, he had let a guy grind on his ass long enough to get hard before Jackson had embarrassed him by walking away, leaving him standing on the center of the dance floor with an obvious raging boner. 

_Losers._

They were attractive, otherwise Jackson wouldn’t have bothered even toying with them, but...

Jackson slid his hand across his chiseled chest and pinched one of his perfect nipples, tweaked and flicked it until it was a hard bud rising proudly from the sculpted panel of his pec. He repeated the process with his other nipple, imagining his wouldbe lovers staring at him. 

As if they were hot enough for all this.

Jackson laughed at the notion, his handsome face lighting up in the mirror and sending a pulse of excitement surging through his lean, sinewy stomach. His eyes flicked down to it, and he watched himself in the mirror as he trailed a finger along his midline, teasing the thin, perfectly groomed trail of hairs he had deigned to allow to stay – Oh, who was he kidding? He barely had to groom. He just naturally grew hair in erotic, flawless patterns, like the close-cropped inverted triangle of light brown hair gracing his pelvis and accentuating his godlike manhood.

_Fuck, I have an amazing cock!_

Jackson had never seen a cock half as good as his own. It was the perfect length: eight and a half inches. Anything bigger was just stupid and grotesque, anything smaller was pathetic and laughable. It was seven inches in girth, also perfect. It had a powerful yet elegant up-curve, a smooth shaft with a single, ideally placed vein across the top front that would bulge beautifully when Jackson was aroused, and it was crowned by a mouth-watering mushroom cap with a flared tip. Jackson also had the ideal circumcision. Just enough of his foreskin had been removed to show off his gorgeous tip while leaving enough intact for Jackson to be able to play with himself with or without lube and still get a silky, smooth glide over his glans. His glans! Jackson loved the way his glans looked. They would turn a satisfying flushed maroon when he was close to cumming – not an unsightly purple or a bland pink like some guys were stuck with.

Jackson tickled the underside of his cockhead until he leaked – well not _leaked,_ he had complete control over it. Until he _produced_ – a droplet of precum, which he used to coat his beautiful mushroom cap. God he wanted to be fucked by a cock just like his own!

Fortunately, he could. Arousal flared in Jackson’s toned, rippling abdomen as he leaned over on hands and knees to his nightstand and retrieved the custom dildo he’d had made, modeled from his own cock of course. 

Jackson placed his prosthetic cock on the bed but didn’t get up. Instead he backed up, still on hands and knees, to the mirror behind him. 

_Aww fuck!_

Jackson leak– _produced,_ voluntarily produced, another droplet of precum, which he chose to drool onto his Egyptian cotton sheets as he stared back at the hottest ass he had ever seen: his own.

Damn! His buttocks looked like it was carved from marble. Each rounded cheek was perfectly proportioned and opened onto the most erotic asscrack in the world. His inner valley was smooth and sleek with hot flesh that felt like velvet and muscles that griped and caressed anyone lucky enough to touch Jackson here. His taint was fleshy and infinitely lickable – and his hole. Oh god, Jackson’s hole was obscenely hot. It was a perfect, tight little pucker, the same color as Jackson’s flawless skin, but once it had been teased, fingered, or fucked, it would get red and puffy, almost begging to be touched – except of course that Jackson would never beg for anything. 

He sucked on his finger, then reached back and tapped his tight hole, reverently working it open until he could tease his ring of muscles and slide the tip of his finger inside. He moaned. His hole was so silky tight and _warm._ Good god, what it must be like to fuck him. Jackson could never recreate that sublime experience for himself, but he had done the next best thing. He hopped off the bed and sprinted to his closet, where he kept his custom-made fuckable Jackson ass, as well as a base for his Jackson dildo so he could ride it better.

Ten minutes later he was staring at himself in the mirror, bouncing frantically on his replica dick, his feet planted on the mattress and his thighs spread wide. He couldn’t tear his eyes off his abs as they glistened with perspiration, flexing and twitching each time his cock hit his prostate. At last he slicked lube on his real erection and grabbed his artificial ass. He knew he wouldn’t last long once he slid inside his tight little hole – well he _could_ last long if he wanted to. He could last all night if he wanted to, but he knew he’d be ready to completely voluntarily blow his massive load once he got inside the imperfect replica of his perfect ass.

He slammed down hard on his artificial cock, grinding his silicone cockhead against his very real prostate, and continued wiggling and bottoming out as he poised his artificial ass over his real cockhead. He squeezed the silicone cheeks and teased the tight little opening, pretending he was doing it to his real ass. He stared at his handsome face in the mirror as he slowly impaled the toy. God, he looked so fucking hot right now, his eyes half-lidded with lust, his cheeks ruddy, his hair mussed, and his lips parted with pleasure. He needed to make a video next time he fucked himself. Maybe he’d post stills of just his face on social media, let everyone see how good he looked in the throes of ecstasy. His parents were always telling him he should do charity work.

Jackson whimpered and yelped – in a sexy, virile way – as his bounces synced up with his thrusts, and he started hitting his prostate as he fucked his ass. 

“You’re hot!”

“You’re so hot!”

“You’re so fucking _hot,_ Jackson! FUCK ME!”

Jackson threw his head back, gazing up at the mirror mounted to the ceiling as he unloaded in his ass.

_Damn, my orgasm face could make anyone cum._

When the waves of intense, Jackson-induced pleasure finally abated, he carefully climbed off his cock and pulled out of his ass. He sprawled sideways on the bed and gave himself a wide, satisfied grin in the mirror. This was his favorite part, the afterglow when he could finally gaze upon his beautify without getting hopelessly turned on. He’d be able to look at himself for another ten or maybe even fifteen minutes before he had to either stop or fuck himself some more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is greatly appreciated!


	3. Stiles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads up you guys, Stiles is kind of a creeper in this story.

Stiles whined in frustration as he shifted around in the driver’s seat of his Jeep. Theo was evil. Even if he turned out not to be evil evil, he was _evil._ There was no other way to describe someone who’s shady behavior necessitated Stiles spending hours cramped up in a stuffy tin can – _sorry Roscoe!_ – with an epic case of blue balls. But oh no, Stiles wasn’t going to abort his stakeout early just to go home and get some relief. He was going to watch Theo’s house all night if he had to, anything to get the proof he needed to protect his pack from Theo’s lies and manipulation. Theo was bound to have a rendezvous with a Dread Doctor or pop out to kick some kittens and poison a few puppies any minute now. It was just a matter of waiting.

Stiles hated waiting. It didn’t help that Malia had been sexting him off and on all night – and seriously, what part of ‘I’m on a stakeout!’ did she not understand? What was he supposed to do, let Theo off the hook just so he could answer his girlfriend’s booty call? Wait, why was that a bad idea again?

_Oh right, puppies and kittens._

Stiles grabbed his binoculars as the light flicked on in Theo’s room. This was his chance! This was his chance to catch Theo in the act, to see his double dealing with his own two eyes, to– 

_Oh shit._

–to watch Theo do shirtless chin-ups in his bedroom doorway...sweaty. 

_Why is he already sweaty?_

Theo was so frickin evil! Only evil people looked like sweaty, glistening gods _before_ they worked out.

Stiles rubbed himself through his pants.

Theo was so frickin shirtless! Like, there was no shirt there anywhere, not even a sleeve. For all Stiles knew, Theo didn’t even keep shirts in his bedroom. Maybe they were all hung up in the closet of his secret evil lair. 

Stiles opened the top button of pants and unzipped his fly.

Theo was so frickin muscular! Werewolf or not, there had to be something shady going on with that. He must have traded his soul for huge pecs and bulging biceps. The evil bastard!...he had gotten a good deal though.

Stiles sighed in relief as he pulled aside the flaps of his pants and his erection was finally allowed to tent freely in his boxers.

_This is insane. You’re not really gonna jerk off in your Jeep to evil Theo with his evil abs and his evil sweaty pecs are you?_

Theo’s workout shorts slipped lower on his hips, revealing more of his v-lines and pelvis and – nope, yep, this was definitely happening.

Stiles just needed to clear it with Malia first so he wouldn’t feel guilty later. He put down his binoculars and grabbed his phone.

Stiles: _I may masturbate to Theo._

He rubbed himself through his underwear until he got a response. Theo’s shorts kept slipping lower and lower until Stiles was sure the root of his evil cock was the only thing holding them up.

Malia: _I may too if you don’t come meet me._

Good enough. Stiles tossed his phone into the passenger seat and arched his hips so that he could slid his boxers down. He moaned as he wrapped his hand around his shaft and raised the binoculars.

_Holy fuck!_

In the few seconds Stiles had been looking away Theo had taken off his shorts, probably frustrated by their unwillingness to cling to his hips – which to Stiles was completely unrelatable, because had they _seen_ Theo’s hips?

Theo was now left in nothing but a white jockstrap, an _overstuffed_ white jockstrap that barely seemed up to the task of containing Theo’s jiggling manhood as his body tensed and flexed with each rise and fall on the chin-up bar.

Stiles licked his palm and rubbed it roughly over his cockhead. He was annoyed that he didn’t have proper lube, or a free hand to massage his balls the way he liked. On the other hand, he had an erotic live show, so he couldn’t complain.

Stiles eased off when he felt the telltale heat and need in his gut. Theo was obviously the kind of guy who did _a lot_ of reps, so there was no rush. 

A thick bead of sweat rolled down Theo’s smooth, tan lower stomach and into the waistband of his jockstrap. Stiles almost swallowed his tongue as the moisture apparently irritated Theo and he hung by one arm so that he could grope and adjust his package. 

The action didn’t stop there. Theo pivoted and twisted his body, his obliques and abs flexing wildly as he grabbed the chin-up bar with his hand in the other direction and fluidly rotated so that his back was now facing Stiles. It was a nice back, an epic back, a back that rippled with muscles and sloped with power and grace down to narrow hips. But Stiles couldn’t have cared less about Theo’s back because...

Theo’s naked ass was framed by the elastic straps of his jock. Now every rise and fall on the bar had Theo’s smooth, bronze ass clenching and relaxing. His cheeks squeezed together and then parted, parted but not enough, never enough.

Stiles drew in a deep stuttering breath and held it as he jack-rabbited his cock, teasing his glans with the pad of his thumb and sending shockwaves of pleasure pulsing up his spine so hard he couldn’t hold the binoculars steady. 

Stiles whined and whimpered, grimacing as he rocketed toward his orgasm but couldn’t get there fast enough. Now. NOW! He needed to cum _now_ while Theo was holding a particularly long chin-up and his fucking perfect, glorious globes were clenched so tight they were throbbing.

“Gaahh!”

The Jeep shook as cum erupted from Stiles’ cock and pelted the underside of the binoculars. It felt so good and hit with such a satisfying splat that Stiles aimed the binoculars down at his crotch to get a closer look. 

His gigantic pink cockslit winked at him for a split second and then it was spitting another thick rope of cum directly at his eyes. He closed them out of reflex before he remembered that for once he had several inches of protective lenses and plastic between his sensitive irises and his stinging jizz. 

He was trembling from the aftershocks as he re-opened his eyes and – yep, all he could see were cloudy white puddles and – wow! His load looked so big, so _copious_ like this. 

Stiles laid his head back in his seat and gazed lazily through the binoculars, enjoying the view of Theo’s ass and back covered in his cum, even if it was just an optical illusion. 

After a few minutes Stiles sighed, cleaned up with an old shirt from the backseat, tucked himself into his pants, and drove off. Staking out Theo’s house seemed less important and a lot less interesting now, especially when, if he hurried, he could get to Malia’s house for round two while she was still worked up.

**\--** **000--**

Theo jumped down from the chin-up bar and stepped back, still naked except for his jockstrap.

“Okay, he’s gone. You can come in now.”

The three dread doctors appeared in his doorway, wheezing and clicking maniacally. 

Theo smirked at his own resourcefulness. He ran a hand over his sweaty stomach and readjusted the tight cloth pouch clinging to his manhood. Stiles was the only person in the McCall pack who suspected him in the slightest, and he was so infinitely distractible. Theo would be running Beacon Hills by the next full moon.


	4. Lydia

Lydia remembers Stiles’ face. She remembers his voice and the way he laughs. She remembers the way he chews his pen when he’s concentrating on something, and she remembers a thousand conversations they’ve had, daily interactions that add up to one unmistakable conclusion: she loves him. 

Lydia even remembers Stiles telling her that he loves her. She remembers sitting in his Jeep with him. She remembers him vanishing before her eyes. Now that she knows about the Ghost Riders and the Wild Hunt it seems that she remembers everything about Stiles, everything except...

She turns off the light and lies back on her bed. She remembers Stiles in her room, but not here in her bed. Try as she might she can’t remember how he made love to her. She can remember the sensation of his fingers on her skin, but not the sensation of his fingers inside her. She can remember his body, but not all of it. She can remember his kiss, but nothing else. 

She’s sure of her feelings; she’s sure of _his_ feelings. So surely they must have made love, and surely it was unforgettable. She just needs to remember.

Lydia sits up and peels her nightgown over head, leaving her in nothing but the lacy black bra and panty set she’s sure she must have worn for at least some of their encounters. She imagines Stiles fingers brushing the hair off her shoulder as she tilts hear head and shimmies forward, doing it herself. She imagines his fingers grazing her cheek as he leans in for a kiss. She imagines melting against him as he struggles to unclasp her bra with one hand. She’s sure he wouldn’t be able to, sure she would need to break the kiss and do it for him as she does now. She tosses the frilly fabric to the foot of the bed and arches her back, imaging his lips and fingertips on her breasts as he guides her onto the sheets. 

Stiles would lick his lips and look at her with warm chocolate eyes full of admiration and just a hint of anxiety. It doesn’t matter how often they’ve made love, Lydia is sure Stiles would always be a little nervous before they start. She would take his hand and pull him forward, and he’d stretch out over her, their noses almost touching.

“You’re wearing too many clothes,” she would whisper, her fingers trailing down his back and pinching the waistband of his underwear. His pants and shirt would have come off in a frenzied rush the moment they closed her bedroom door, but he’d leave his underwear on until she gave him this cue, until he can be sure he isn’t pressuring her.

Stiles would sit back on his ankles, his mottled cheeks darkening in a blush as he glances down at the tent in his loose underwear. Lydia imagines he’s wearing boxers with a silly print, maybe of a superhero or comics character, or perhaps from a sci-fi movie. That’s it. Stiles is wearing _Stars Wars_ print underwear, and he makes a joke about his lightsaber as it gets tangled up in the cloth and he tumbles sideways on the bed. He arches his hips and uses the new position to push the material down his thighs and over his knees, kicking wildly as he tries to free his legs.

He’s beautiful and doesn’t know it, doesn’t realize how much she likes looking at him like this, doesn’t linger to let her as he shifts back on top of her and presses a heated kiss to her mouth. He moans and it rattles down her throat and deep into her core. 

“Can I...?”

He would be too shy to finish, but would cover by flicking his tongue back and forth lewdly. 

“Yes, Stiles,” she would tell him in the breathy voice that would have him stroking himself as he places kisses down her chest and onto her stomach. 

He’s staring as he pulls her panties off. His focus is a bit too intense, and his fingers are a bit too hurried. She wouldn’t change a thing. 

He’d say something stupid like, “You’ve got a really great vajayjay!” or “Well, let’s see if I can make you scream like a banshee.”

She’d sit up and fold her arms over her chest in mock outrage and he’d start to panic.

“I’m sorry! I-” He’d tilt his head and give her a look that sends a chill down her spine. “You’re beautiful, Lydia.”

“That’s better.” She’d smile and lie back down, spreading her legs for him.

Then his mouth would be on her. He knows what he’s doing. He’s better at this than any lover Lydia’s ever had, more interested in pleasuring her than simply warming her up so they can progress to the next thing. For Stiles this _is_ the thing, and he would moan and stroke himself with abandon as he does it.

Lydia’s eyes are squeezed shut and her fingers are wet as they swirl around her opening. Her middle finger slides inside and curls back, tickling her g-spot the way Stiles’ finger would. The index finger of her other hand also gets in on the action, lightly stroking her clit the way Stiles’ tongue is doing in her fantasy. 

Stiles increases the pressure and speed of his tongue and her finger can barely keep up. They’ve just started but she’s already close, and they both know Stiles isn’t going to slow down until he takes her all the way. 

He lets go of his erection and begins caressing her inner thigh, and Lydia doesn’t have the hand free to mimic the action, but she feels it on her skin nonetheless. He slides a second finger inside of her and holds it steady as his other finger keeps wiggling. He’s humming against her now, sending gentle vibrations crashing over her, and Lydia considers stopping to get her vibrator from her nightstand, but she can’t pry herself away from the scene happening in her head long enough to do it.

Stiles’ tongue is a miracle. It flicks her sensitive nub with a precision that is at once ferocious yet delicate.

She’s moaning and writhing on the bed. Everything is wet and tight and ready to explode. 

Stiles shifts his finger inside her and he presses his tongue harder, and she comes undone. 

She has to bite her lip to keep from screaming and blowing out all the windows as waves of heady pleasure pulse through her and she leaks against Stiles’ face.

Stiles licks and noses at her, savoring everything she has to offer. Then he sits up and looks at her, waiting for her approval, and Lydia has no doubts that he would do it all over again if she were to tell him that it wasn’t enough. But it was enough. It was perfect, just like every time he does it. 

Lydia can’t quite remember Stiles making love to her, but she’s sure this is how they used to do it. She’s also sure they’re going to get him back, and when they do...well then she can compare fantasy to reality.


	5. Scott

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who read the first five 2017 installments of this collection, which include the first four chapters of this story plus the Corey-centric [“Walloping the Walrus.”](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10925166) I’m excited to kick off the 2018 installments with Scott and his gorgeous ass.

_Please be there. Please be there._

Scott’s stomach tightened and his pulse sped up as he pulled into his driveway and spied the package sitting on the welcome mat by the front door. 

_YES!_

He killed the engine and knocked the kickstand into place before jumping off his bike and jogging up the driveway. He had to be at the animal clinic in less than twenty minutes for his shift. He should drop off his school stuff, change his clothes, and head back out like he did every afternoon during the week. 

Scott picked up the box and jammed his key in the lock. He didn’t have time to do this. He should wait until after work. He could get off after he got off. 

He snickered at his pun as he slammed the door shut behind him and hung his keys on the rack by the door. Stiles wouldn’t think it was funny because it was too obvious, but Scott thought it was pretty clever.

He hustled up the stairs carrying his package in one hand and _fondling his package_ in the other. Man, he was firing on all cylinders today!

It was a race to get both packages open as he hurried into his room and glanced at the clock on his desk. Seventeen minutes until he had to be at Deaton’s, and it usually took about ten-to-fifteen minutes to get there depending on traffic. On the other hand, if there was _no_ traffic and he caught every light he could be there in five-to-ten minutes. There probably wouldn’t be any traffic, right? That gave him like ten minutes, plenty of time to see if his new toy could live up to...

_Isaac’s cock._

Scott bit his bottom lip and tossed himself across his bed beside the torn-open box, his pants and underwear tangled around his sneakers. Last weekend had been a confusing, incredible, bittersweet mess. 

After narrowly defeating the Nogitsune and Oni and restoring the balance in Beacon Hills things had gotten _intense._ Lydia had had a premonition that someone might die, and as Scott had sprinted to the battle he had watched in horror as the Oni overwhelmed Isaac and one of them went in for the deathblow. Allison had killed that Oni just in time to save him, but in her relief she had become distracted and failed to notice a second Oni charging toward her, sword raised. Scott had barely managed to reach her in time to yank her out of the way. After that the tide had turned, and they had overcome their foes. 

The fact remained that Scott had come close to losing two of the people he cared most about. That night after the rest of the pack had gone home, things with Allison and Isaac had reached a fever pitch on the couch. It had started with Scott’s arms around their shoulders. Then Allison and Isaac were kissing. Then somehow Allison and _Scott_ were kissing. Then before he could apologize, Scott and _Isaac_ were kissing. The next thing Scott knew they were naked in his room, Scott’s face buried between Allison’s legs just like old times. Not like old times? Isaac’s fingers buried in Scott’s ass. They hadn’t even talked about what was happening besides nods and moans, but within minutes Scott was balls deep in Allison and Isaac was balls deep in him.

For that one amazing night everything had been perfect.

...then the next day the trio had mutually decided that it had been a one-time thing, and Scott had gone back to being just friends with the couple. 

Scott was miserable. He had spent all week trading longing looks with Allison at school and finding every opportunity he could to touch Isaac at home. Isaac had basically dry humped him on the way to school that morning on the back of his motorcycle, and Allison’s smile was downright evil as she met them in the parking lot and eyed their tented crotches before leading Isaac away by the hand and taking him to her car. They had been late for first hour.

Scott’s bedroom door was wide open as he used his claws to tear the flesh-colored dildo out of its plastic packaging. He didn’t know where Isaac was. Maybe he would come home before Scott finished. Maybe Allison would be with him. 

Scott shuffled higher on the bed and grabbed the bottle of lube he kept tucked between his headboard and the mattress. He groaned as he saw the clock. If Isaac and Allison were going to show up, they needed to do it within the next eight minutes.

Whether they came or not, Scott was going to ( _Seriously, fire Stiles, fire!_ ), and he was going to do it with something in his ass like he had on Saturday night. Fuck, if this dildo felt half as good as Isaac’s cock it would be worth every penny. He slathered it with lube and tugged his shirt up to his chest so he could lay it on his stomach while he readied his hole. 

Scott didn’t actually know how to ready his hole. In his life _Isaac’s_ fingers had spent more time inside him than his own had. Oh well, he didn’t have time to go slow and easy anyway, and his alpha healing shouldn’t have much difficulty repairing any damage he caused. He swirled two wet fingertips over his puckered mound and prodded it with his index finger. It felt fine. He was probably ready.

He pressed the dildo against his opening and flashed back to a few nights ago – to Allison’s back arching off the bed as he penetrated her, to her breasts heaving and bouncing as he settled into a rhythm, to the tips of Isaac’s claws pressing against his hips, to Isaac moaning Scott’s name as he– 

“Aww fuck!”

Scott squeezed his eyes shut and took shaky breaths through his mouth as he impaled himself. It hurt way more than when Isaac had done it, even though the toy was a little bit _smaller_ than Isaac. Scott wanted to take it out but as unfamiliar as the sharp burn blazing in his core was, there was an underlying dull throb that _was_ familiar. Isaac must have taken his pain, or done a better job prepping him, or both, but regardless if Scott could ride out the blaze, he was pretty sure he would enjoy the hell out of the throb.

He rubbed a slick thumb over his swollen cockhead, trying to distract himself from the pain and move closer to his release. He had to keep going. He needed to cum in about the next three minutes so he would still have a couple minutes to clean up and change his clothes.

He switched hands, stroking himself with his dominant right hand while he clumsily guided the dildo back and forth with his left hand. It was going to be clumsy either way. His head swam and sweat broke out across his brow and chest. He should have taken his shirt off, but it was too late to worry about that now. 

The rim of his hole burned, but his insides were starting to feel _sensitive._ He spread his legs, fighting the jumbled pants around his ankles that kept his feet together as he tried to find the best angle to fuck himself. He should have taken those off too, but he just needed to– 

_Oh god theeeerrrre!_

He tucked his shirt under his chin in anticipation of blowing his load. It wouldn’t be as good as filling the condom inside Allison while Isaac erupted bare inside of him, but _nothing_ would be that good. 

“Ohh! Uhhn yeah!”

Scott stroked his cock faster and rammed his ass harder. The sensitive feeling inside him had shifted into a tingling, throbbing glow. It was at this point on Saturday night that he had reached back and clutched Isaac’s asscheek, grinding back against him and urging him to thrust faster. Isaac had hit that spot inside him, over and over, and Allison had twisted sideways on the bed, her wet heat gripping his cock and– 

“Aaahh!”

Scott’s eyes closed and his mouth twisted into a crooked oh as he sprayed cum all over his stomach and chest. The flow stopped for just a second as his ass throbbed and clenched around the dildo. Then he was squealing and shooting harder, spattering his chin and throat with jizz. 

The door downstairs opened. Cold terror mixed with hot euphoria as another _thick_ spurt fired out of his cock and coated his abs and treasure trail. He didn’t stop moaning. He was pretty sure it was– 

“Scott?” Isaac’s voice was filled with embarrassed uncertainty.

Scott whimpered but didn’t answer as he stroked his cock, working the final beads of cum out, then wiping his fingers in his bushy black pubes. He collapsed against the mattress panting, every muscle in his body slack in the afterglow. 

Isaac’s footsteps were heavy on the stairs. Scott closed his eyes and willed himself not to move. There was no way Isaac didn’t know what he had heard, no way he couldn’t _smell_ Scott’s release. 

Isaac paused in the hallway. “Scott...you want me to give you a minute?”

“Up to you,” Scott called back in a shaky voice.

“Oh fuck.” Isaac appeared in the doorway, eyes wide.

Scott stretched, legs spread wide to ensure that Isaac saw the dildo in his ass. “What’s up, man?”

Isaac snorted and rubbed himself through his pants.

Ten minutes later, Scott was sliding his key in the ignition when his phone buzzed.

Dr Deaton: _Scott, are you coming?_

Scott snickered and texted his boss back, apologizing for being late and assuring him he was on his way. Before he could put the bike in gear he got a second message.

Isaac: _Allison is going to be here tonight when you get home...we all need to talk._

Scott’s heart skipped a beat as he tapped out a reply.

Scott: _Good news or bad news?_

The front door opened and Isaac walked out. He strolled up the driveway with a grin on his face. “Allison said I could do this.”

“Do what?” Scott asked, standing but remaining astride his bike.

Isaac cupped the back of Scott’s head and kissed him. His tongue slipped between Scott’s lips as Scott curled his fingers into the waistband of Isaac’s pants.

“She’s on her way,” he whispered in Scott’s ear. “We’re gonna fuck in your bed.”

Scott swallowed and grazed the backs of his fingers against Isaac’s hip. “I wanna suck your cock for the first time tonight. Make sure you taste like her.”

“Oh, I will.” Isaac winked and pressed a kiss to Scott’s lips before walking back to the house.

Scott was still hard when he finally arrived at the animal clinic...thirty minutes late.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys enjoyed this installment. I have a Liam-centric story in the works called “Liam’s Knot” that I’ll be posting separately. I’m also planning installments in this series featuring the twins jerking off in merged form, Brett after lacrosse practice, Malia discovering herself, and Kira powering her own vibrator. 
> 
> Feedback is greatly appreciated!


	6. Gerard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoy this short, humorous piece.

Exhaustion hangs heavy around Gerard’s shoulders as he trudges into his living room and collapses in an antique armchair by the door. The screams of the innocent still ring in his ears, and when he closes his eyes their terrified faces flash in front of him – mouths agape, brows creased with pain, nostrils flaring in futile attempts to breathe. Gerard should go soak in a tub of Epsom salt and climb into bed, but he’s too turned on to sleep.

He unzips his fly and fishes around in his boxer shorts until he manages to free his flopping flounder. It hasn’t gotten the message yet that he’s aroused, but it’ll get there. He just needs to watch a little porn to wake his weary winkle.

With a sigh, he hobbles to the leather couch and props his feet on the coffee table as he turns on his flatscreen TV. It only takes a half hour to find his favorite flick on the DVR machine, and then he’s slapping his saggy sausage as Bambi and his mother come on screen.

He taps his turgid tuber while they eat the new spring grass. They have no idea what’s coming, but he does, and soon his raging rhubarb is creaking and waving in the air. It’s time for the lube. He pauses the film and fumbles around in the end table drawer until he finds what he needs. 

_Widowed Werewolf Tears_ reads the little label. This is the good stuff, uncut by mineral oil or wendigo saliva. The misery glides on wet and silky over his pulsing parsnip. This won’t take long.

A shot booms on screen and Bambi scampers into the thicket, unaware that he’s an orphan. Sheer erotic delight courses through Gerard’s veins, and he launches his slimy sludge into the air. It splats against the coffee table and dribbles down his ankle. 

He’s tempted to turn on _Marley and Me_ and try for round two, but he’s had enough excitement. He has to be up in a few hours to stalk the sewers, and sewer stalking is a young man’s game. He’ll need the extra rest. He tucks away his tepid tamale and shuffles out of the room, an extra slid in his step. It’s been a very good day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is greatly appreciated!


	7. Isaac

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This scene is adapted from chapter 12 of my primary story [Iron Claws and Fragile Hearts](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8091622/chapters/18542080). In it Isaac has sexual and romantic feelings for Stiles, who has just platonically shared his bed for the night. Isaac awakes the next morning horny after a sex dream involving Stiles. Things go differently in Iron Claws and Isaac doesn’t jerk off at this juncture because it would have been creepy, but obviously in this smut AU he does – with Stiles asleep and cuddled up next to him.

Isaac groaned and covered his face with his arm, trying to fend off the sunlight invading through his window and stinging his sleep-weary eyes. His other arm was wrapped loosely around Stiles' shirtless torso. Sweat dampened their overheated flesh at the points of contact.

Isaac's arm wasn't the only thing that was sticky-wet and uncomfortable. His dick was ramrod hard and had leaked into the front of his pajamas pants. The damp fabric clung to his over-sensitive cockhead as he shifted his hips. The thick, needy scent of his precum tickled his nostrils as he adjusted the blankets. 

Stiles mumbled incoherently in his sleep and nuzzled his face against Isaac's chest.

Before falling asleep, Isaac had been borderline overwhelmed with warm, protective feelings toward Stiles, but now he was kind of pissed at him and resented his presence. Not only had Dream Stiles been a huge prick to Isaac, but Real Stiles was preventing Isaac from sliding his hand in his pants and relieving his aching problem. 

To make matters worse, an unmistakable stiffness pressed against Isaac's thigh, adding to his arousal. There were at least three layers of cotton separating them, Isaac's underwear and both their pajamas – four layers if Stiles was also wearing underwear beneath his pajamas – but it was completely maddening having their straining morning erections so near each other and not being able to do anything about it. 

Isaac’s phone chimed and vibrated against the nightstand, jarring him from his thoughts and announcing it was noon. Stiles didn't stir as Isaac reached over him and grabbed the device to silence it. Scott was right: Stiles was a very sound sleeper, at least when he wasn't having nightmares. 

_Would he even wake up if I..._

Isaac slid his hand under the sheet and tentatively rubbed his palm across the tip of his erection, grinding his swollen glans against the wet spot in his pants. He shivered and moaned under his breath. It ached _really_ good. He couldn't remember the last time he had needed to get off this bad. 

Stiles mumbled again and moved his hand higher along Isaac's side, into the space between Isaac's arm and his body, as if subtly nudging Isaac's hand away. Isaac glared at the top of Stiles' sleeping head, seething with anger that Stiles was once again preventing his release. Who the hell was Stiles to tell him he couldn't jerk off in his own damn bed?!

Isaac took a sharp breath and defiantly stroked the length of his cock through his pants. He whimpered and arched his hips. He needed to stop or at least relocate to the bathroom. He couldn’t get himself off with Stiles sleeping practically on top of him.

He inhaled again and tightened his grip around Stiles’ body, his forearm flexing against the bare skin of Stiles’ lower back and his hand draped across the warm cotton covering Stiles’ thigh. Isaac’s cock twitched. Stiles smelled amazing and felt even better nestled under Isaac’s arm, and the fact that _Stiles’_ erection was pressed against his thigh was too much to take without– 

Isaac’s fingertips slid beneath the waistband of his underwear and caressed his swollen, drooling cockhead. The backs of his knuckles grazed the damp fabric as his cock pulsed and released another slick volley against his fingers. The movement made his sensitive tip slid against the smooth, hot skin of lower abdomen and hip. His erection was pointed sideways toward Stiles, increasing the proximity between their manhoods. 

Isaac trailed his fingers down his shaft. He was such a mess in his pants. His pubes and pelvis were wet from the steady flow of his prolonged arousal. The hairs stuck together in clumps of long curls, clinging to the base of his erection. It was embarrassing. He’d be mortified if Stiles woke up and found him like this. Anymore and the wet spot over his hip would reach _Stiles’_ cock.

Isaac bit his lip to keep from moaning as he shifted his leg up and to the side, increasing the pressure against Stiles’ erection, then relieving it, then increasing it again.

Stiles hummed in his sleep and curled his leg around Isaac’s, grinding back against him.

Isaac couldn’t take it anymore. He eased his cock up and out of the top of his pajamas, savoring the brush of friction as the mouth of his glans dragged against the sheet and the back of his helmet brushed his treasure trail. 

He froze and listened carefully to Stiles’ breathing and heart rate. He was sound asleep, but it was a miracle that Isaac didn’t wake him as he trembled and let go of his cock so he could ease the blankets down to waist level. It wouldn’t be right to stare at Stiles’ aroused crotch pressed against him, at the curve of his ass as his legs tangled with Isaac’s, at the sinewy muscles in his back as they dipped into his sleep pants.

Isaac groaned and rolled his index finger back and forth over his cockslit. He tapped it, watching the string of precum stretch and break and reform. Stiles would be staring _right_ at it if he opened his eyes. He head rested atop Isaac’s chest. His hair tickled Isaac’s pecs. His moist, parted lips vibrated against the base of Isaac’s sternum with every breath he took.

Without thinking, Isaac slid his hand up along Stiles’ back, stroking his spine. 

Stiles murmured and nuzzled his face against Isaac’s skin.

Isaac let out a tight breath and curled his fingers around his cock. It felt so fucking good. This couldn’t be happening. He couldn’t be jerking himself off with Stiles’ mouth only a few inches away, with Stiles’ erection digging into his thigh, with Stiles’ hand clutching his bare side.

He had to stop. He couldn’t _cum._ Isaac was a shooter. He’d be unloading all over Stiles’ face.

“Gauhn!” Isaac’s whole body shook as he squeezed his cockhead to keep from flying over the edge as he pictured his thick, pearly white jizz spurting across Stiles’ cheek and lips.

Stiles grumbled and shifted his arm lower and– 

_Oh fuck!_

Isaac’s heart stopped as Stiles’ arm draped across his stomach – and his cock!

_No, no, no, no!_

Isaac clenched his jaw and squeezed his eyes shut as equal parts pleasure and terror racked his body. His cock quaked and– 

_Please, please no!_

A slurry of precum and – based on the potent aroma and thick consistency – actual cum oozed out of Isaac’s cock and flowed between his fingers and onto Stiles’ arm. Isaac’s legs flexed in pleasure, but it was short-lived as his crotch cramped up in frustration at being denied a full release.

Stiles groaned and moved his elbow, sliding it over Isaac’s painfully hard, dripping erection and setting off another round of pleasure followed by aching contractions. 

Fuck, there was no way Isaac would be able to stop it a third time.

Stiles mumbled and rolled off of Isaac and onto his back, pinning Isaac’s arm beneath him.

Isaac didn’t give a damn. That was a problem he could confront in the distant future of about thirty seconds. Right now he needed to– 

He stared at the light musculature of Stiles’ pecs, the little brown nubs of his nipples, and his lean stomach. It was smooth except for the luscious triangle of dark hair that grew beneath his navel and dipped under the sheets – under the _tented_ sheets.

Isaac gasped and stroked his cock faster as he erupted all over the front of his body. Thick ropes of cum spurted across his chest and abs as he was bathed in tingling warmth and rode out a rapid fire burst of hard, satisfied contractions. 

When it was over he eased his arm out from under Stiles body, wiped up with the t-shirt he’d worn the night before, double checked that no one was in the hallway, and rushed to the bathroom. He threw his soiled clothes in the hamper and hopped in the shower.

Barely ten minutes later he returned to his room with a towel wrapped around his waist to find Stiles yawning and stretching. 

“Damn, looks like I missed all the fun,” Stiles said as he sat up and grinned at Isaac.

“What?!” 

Stiles shrugged. “Your shower.”

“Oh.” Isaac’s cheeks heated. Stiles’ pretend flirting was really getting old.

“Huhn.” Stiles scratched his elbow and furrowed his brow. “I think I need a shower too. I’m sticky.”

Isaac swallowed and smiled innocently. “Well, there’s plenty of hot water.”

Stiles smirked and ran his eyes over Isaac’s dripping torso. “Good thing because I think might be in there awhile.”

Isaac laughed nervously and averted his eyes as Stiles slid out of bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you’re interested in seeing more plot between these two, please consider checking out [Iron Claws and Fragile Hearts.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8091622/chapters/18542080)
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this story and feedback is always greatly appreciated!

**Author's Note:**

> This story is complete for MMOM 2017 and MMOM 2018. I'll probably reopen it in 2019 and 2020 to add more installments. In the meantime be sure to check out the other five stories posted in the [Collection.](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/FeelsGoodtobeLonely) They're longer than the installments in this series and while the focus is on masturbation, several feature descriptions of sexual activity between characters.


End file.
